


An Exception for You

by KyberHearts_And_StardustSouls



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Kylo Ren - Freeform, Mentions of Blood, Romance, Smut, Star Wars - Freeform, mentions of medical procedures, some smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-19 16:02:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11316822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyberHearts_And_StardustSouls/pseuds/KyberHearts_And_StardustSouls
Summary: Request:Is there any way you can write something for Hux falling for a nurse who helped him heal kylo from the injuries he obtained after TFA? Like maybe he met her after she helped him with Kylo & found himself captivated by her. I absolutely adore the way you write Hux, I think it's just perfect!❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Request: _Is there any way you can write something for Hux falling for a nurse who helped him heal kylo from the injuries he obtained after TFA? Like maybe he met her after she helped him with Kylo & found himself captivated by her. I absolutely adore the way you write Hux, I think it's just perfect!_ ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

 

"Out of my way!"   
   
Before the lanky redhead standing in the frame of the double doors had time to react, your shoulder collided with his chest, a small groan escaping his lips. For someone short, you sure packed a lot of energy behind your stature. Feisty energy because you had learned quickly that asking nicely wasted precious time. Time, people under your care usually didn't have.  
   
You stretched on a pair of latex gloves, catching a glimpse of the redhead gawking at you from the corner of your eye. The raised brow he offered a mix of stunned and waiting. No time for apologies. As an E.R. nurse, you couldn't allow yourself to linger on thoughts of courtesy in situations like this. Being nice was only ever required when dealing with kids, and you hadn't dealt with tiny beings since joining the First Order Medical Corps.  
   
"TRAITORS! ALL OF YOU! **TRAITORS!** "  
"TEN CC'S METHOHEXITAL, STAT!"  
"I can't move. If I do, he'll try to get up again!" You struggled against the patient's arm.   
   
The sound of the surgical tray flying against the wall, just before crashing to the ground of sickbay a moment after, startled for a second. So did the patient trying to make an exit. Not even his injuries seemed to slow him down. Adrenaline and rage induced strength you knew could wear off any minute; which for him meant certain death.   
   
No time to play games. You hit a button on the intercom. An eternity felt second later an orderly rushed in to help push the patient back into bed. Apprehensively --- because they recognized who the patient was. Not like you hadn't, but you couldn't allow yourself to be scared of the repercussions that might come with lacking bedside manners. Not while there was a chance of the patient bleeding out right in front of you. And he was bleeding. A lot!  
   
"Quick thinking, nurse," the doctor breathed.   
"You can thank me later. How is he still able to move?" You kept struggling against the patient's wailing arm, making it impossible for you to ready a hypo-spray.  "Looks like we might have to do this the hard way!" You peered around, noting the lanky redhead still standing by the double doors. "You there. Get over here and make yourself useful!" you ordered; the stranger quirking another surprised brow. "COME ON!! He will die if we don't patch this wound soon!"  
   
The redhead sped your way, taking your place, and you pulled restraints across arms, chest, and legs of the patient before readying the hypo-spray.   
"TRAITORS! TRAIIIITOOOORS!" The patient fought against the restraints holding him in place, causing the wound under his rib cage to bleed faster.   
   
You hurriedly grabbed large pieces of gauze from another tray nearby. "Put pressure on this and keep adding gauze. Don't take it off!" You instructed the redhead. Before he could protest, you had taken his gloved hand and placed it over the wound to hold the gauze in place.  
   
"Ten CC's should've knocked him out!" The doctor stood baffled for a moment. A moment of wasted time.  
"More methohexital?"  
No reply.  
"DOCTOR! More methohexital!?" Your patience was wearing thin. Not just with the patient but with everyone else in the room.   
"Yes. YES! Five more cc's, nurse!" The doctor refocused.  
You pushed five more.   
   
"A...aall... of .. you... traiiitorssss..." The words slurred once the anesthetic started taking effect. A few more seconds, then he was out. At last.   
"Alright, let's get a breathing tube in and start an IV. Orderly, check to see if the O.R. is ready. Nurse, make away with the rest of the armor and clothing."   
   
You didn't have to be told twice. You didn't have to be told at all. The second the patient stopped fighting the on-setting lull, you were already cutting away at the black fabric, taking note and inspecting any other injuries coming to light.   
   
"Looks like Kylo Ren isn't invincible after all," you mumbled when you reached the large wound under his left side ribs. You inspected the surrounding tissue, noting the burned edges. Dead flesh that needed to be cut away. But before you could speak up, the double doors swung open. An O.R. nurse entering, ready to roll the patient towards surgery.   
   
"You can let go. We got from here," the O.R. nurse geared at the lanky redhead, so he let go, blood still oozing through layers of weaved fabric.   
   
You looked after the O.R. nurse and the doctor pushing the med-bed towards the O.R., letting out a deep sigh, shaking your head. You had never encountered such a difficult patient. Then again, Kylo Ren wasn't just any patient. You were aware of his force abilities. Nearly surprised he didn't choke any of you to death.  
   
Another deep breath.  
Another shake of the head.  
The silence after trauma care was usually comforting. Instead, you felt a lingering gaze from behind, and it sent shivers down your spine. You had nearly forgotten about the lanky, red-haired someone still in the room with you.  
   
"If you're waiting for an apology, you're not going to get one." You said without turning around.   
"I wasn't expecting one." His voice sounded indifferent. Now that you thought about it, he seemed indifferent the entire time. Towards the patient at least.  
   
You spun around on your heel. This time it was you who perked a surprised brow.   
"Then why are you still here?" You crossed your arms, your eyes tracking his. A set of icy blues that didn't seem to want to steer away from you. There was a held intensity that turned shivers into tingling nerves. The way he looked at you was anything but indifferent. He was studying you from head to toe.  
   
Time to repay the favor. You mirrored his gaze. A slow once-over to take the rest of him in. Tall, slender, red hair, icy blues, pale-skinned; austere posture through and through. Even his lips were rigid, his whole face wrinkle free as though he had never smiled once in his life.  
   
Another slow once-over, and you noted the rank of General on his sleeve. He didn't look old enough to be a General, that much you knew. No matter. Officer or not, he shouldn't have been in the way. So whatever his answer was going to be, you weren't going to give him an apology, even with those icy blues staring right through you.  
   
"Nurse. We need help in room four!" A young orderly interrupted your silent stare off.  
"Be right there." You replied over your shoulder, then refocused on the General. "Make sure you clean off that blood with cold water." You turned back around, gearing towards the double doors.  
   
"At least give me your name." The General requested and you stopped dead in your tracks, slowly pivoting back around.  
"Why?"  
"So I ... I can put in a commendation."   
"For what? Doing my job?" You offered a sarcastic smirk.  
"For saving Kylo Ren's life."  
"It was a team effort."  
"Not how I saw it."   
You tilted your head in a "yeah right" way, and he stepped closer to you.  
"Your name. Please?" He whispered, and for the first time that austere edge gave way to some softness. That little upward curve of his lip could nearly be counted as a smile.  
"It's ... (YF/N). I mean... nurse (Y/LN). It's nurse (Y/FN) (Y/LN)."  
"Nurse (Y/FN)(Y/LN). I'm General Hux." He stretched out his leather gloved hand, but you hesitated.  
   
"I don't date officers," was your response, and he quirked a brow again.  
"I didn't ask."  
"Right," you squinted at him before accepting his hand. To your surprise, his grip was gentle. Nothing at all like you had expected. But also cold. The leather of his gloves and latex of yours to blame for that.  
   
You noted his lips parting, whatever word he wanted to say next cut off by your "I have patients waiting" statement.  
"Then go."  
"Thanks for the help."  
"I'll see you tomorrow?"  
"Why?"  
"Have to keep an eye on Ren."  
"Right."  
"You'll be here won't you?"  
"Yes. But not for Ren. I'm an E.R. nurse."  
"But... you'll still be here."  
"Yes. In the E.R.," you clarified.  
"You can let go of my hand now."  
   
Your gaze dropped and indeed, you were still holding his hand. And he yours, his grip now tightening a little.  
You quickly retracted your hand. "I don't date officers," you repeated; quickly taking off your gloves and discarding them in the biohazard bag nearby, then hurried to room four before he could counter with another "I didn't ask."  
   
That was nearly a month ago, and now you stood in your quarters, choosing an outfit for a date with him.  
   
Hux.  
   
General Hux.  
   
General Armitage Hux.  
   
Funny how you had come to like his presence. Not like he had been intrusive or overbearing in any way. In fact, he had remained quite formal the entire time.  
Austere posture whenever he had found his way to you after a visit with Ren.  
Short encounters with you that transcended to longer talks with each passing day. The slow encroachment into your personal space hadn't gone unnoticed either, and before you knew it, there was the occasional brush against your arm to which he, for whatever reason, always apologized with a "forgive me".  
   
You husked out a chuckle at the recollections. For a man with his authority and his confidence, it was funny that it had taken him nearly a month before he had dared to ask you out. It was even funnier when you had said yes, and he had stood agape before stumbling out an "I thought you didn't date officers." A statement to which you had replied with a cocky "I'll make an exception for you."  
   
Clearly, he had expected a //NO// that day, especially with the way his shoulders had slumped before the question had formed across his lips, but a fleeting smile that day and you knew he was glad that you had returned his request with a yes. After all, you weren't oblivious to the fact that he very much enjoyed the closeness gained over the past few weeks. It was in the way he gazed at you. Like he was somehow enthralled. That made his reaction to your yes even funnier, making you laugh wholeheartedly when you recalled the moment, again.  
   
A chime through your quarters signaled his arrival. You rushed to the door, the digital display showing him waiting right outside. In his uniform.  
A whispered "dammit" and the door swooshed open. "I thought, you said we're going on a date?" You greeted with one hand on hip. He looked formal.  
 You, on the other hand, not so much with wearing an off the shoulder shirt and your nicest pair of skinny jeans; hair styled like it was casual Zhellday and minimal makeup; a pair of fancy sneakers rounding off your look. The total opposite of what you usually wore, and it dawned on you that he had never seen you in anything other than your scrubs, with your hair hidden under a cap, and generally no makeup whatsoever.  
   
"We are," Hux drew in his brows, confused at your get up.  
Your brows shot up while you gaze traveled over his uniform. "To what? A military ball?"  
"A restaurant," he countered coldly.  
"Right. The fancy one, I'm guessing. I'll go change."  
"We don't..." He couldn't finish the sentence. You had already disappeared into the bedroom of your quarters.   
"You can come in. It'll only be ten minutes," you yelled out.  
"It's ok. I'll wait right here, by the door." Hux yelled back after a glimpse into your tiny abode.  
You stuck your head out of the bedroom and stared at him, his expression revealing that he definitely hadn't expected this. An organized mess of colorful items sprawling from living room to hallway. You ventured he was as neat in private as he was at work. After all, his uniform was always spotless, hair neatly combed, face always shaven, not a hint of imperfection.  
"Suit yourself." You snickered, amused by his widened eyes, then disappeared back into your bedroom.  
   
Ten minutes passed and you still hadn't reappeared. "(Y/N) we should get going. The reservation is at 8. It's almost 7:45."  
"We're on a base. There are only two restaurants. And they're both within a five-minute walk," your voice gained volume when you left your bedroom and made your way back to him.  
   
He just stared at you, slacked jaw, lost for words, traveling gaze.   
"I take it, this works," you smirked; spinning around, showing off the little black dress; the dress you had chosen hugging you in all the right places; your hair still styled casually, but smokier eyes and redder lips, this time strappy heels rounding off the look, definitely showing off your toned legs. When you were done you stepped closer to him and cupped his chin, forcing his jaw up to close his mouth. You leaned in, whispering a "let's go" into his ear, the small peck you planted on his cheek right after making him jump back.   
   
You laughed. "General Hux. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're scared of me."  
"I'm... I am not," he straightened back up, holding out his arm and you hooked in, that perplexed look on his face traded for austerity yet again.  
   
The walk to the restaurant was as formal as the four weeks leading up to this date. He kept a discreet distance between your body and his, albeit your linked arms. You couldn't help a snicker.  
"What's so funny?" He asked with such seriousness, the snicker turned into a full-on laugh.  
"You're always so... so stiff. It's ok to loosen up now and then."  
"Hmmm," came with a raised brow, almost arrogant, but you ignored it. You had seen those hints of warmness, so you knew there was more to him than what he offered of himself.  
   
Hux didn't have to say his name once at the restaurant. The maître d' clearly knew who was standing in front of him when he ushered you to a secluded table with a view on the city across from base; the skyline draped in darkness, outlined in blinking lights.   
The menu was foreign to you. Not the language itself, but the choices. It took you close to twenty minutes before you knew what you wanted. Hux just gazing at you, it was the first time you doubted him asking you out.  
   
"Why did you join the First Order?" The question came out of the blue. For you at least; for him, not so much. He always seemed to calculate his next step. So this shouldn't have been a surprise.  
"I suppose, I didn't want to disappoint my parents." You sighed. "My father ... let's just say, if I had joined the resistance, he'd never speak to me again."  
"Would you have wanted to join them?" Hux's face froze like edged stone, and you knew you had hit on a difficult subject.   
"Truth be told, I didn't want to take any side," you leaned back into your chair, folding your arms and gauging his reaction. "I'm a nurse. I heal people for a living. I hate war, but I ... I suppose in the end we all have to choose a side. Even if the reasons aren't noble ones."  
   
"What about you? Why do this?" You returned the question.  
Hux sat quiet, thinking. "Because... this is all I know. It's all I've known all my life."  
"What about your parents?"  
"My mother... I don't know. My father... Obedience through discipline was all _he_ ever knew."  
   
You could feel a distance growing between you two. This wasn't first date conversation. This wasn't even second date conversation. This was along the line, down the road type of talk.  
You unfolded your arms, reaching for Hux's resting hand on the table, curling your fingers around his still leather gloved hand. "I don't want to talk about this. Not tonight."  
"Then what should we talk about?"  
"Let's talk about good memories."  
"Like?"  
"Like... did you own a pet? And did you ever fly a tie fighter? And what do you like about space? What do you do when you need to relax?"  
   
Hux sat agape, and you thought you had pushed it too far. He was a private person, you knew that. But if he was serious about dating you, you needed more than the occasional brush of the arm and what little he offered of himself. But then his face softened. Into a smile. An actual smile. A soft laugh almost shocked you.  
"I... I had a cat," he started with a light chuckle. After that, the words spilled with ease.   
   
Dinner stretched over three hours. Three hours of talking, and laughs. Few laughs. Soft ones. Held back ones. Laughs nonetheless. The way back to your quarters took twice as long. Your arm linked in his again, but this time he seemed closer. In fact, his free hand rested on your linked arm, and now and then you felt him circling your skin, his hands still gloved, maintaining a barrier you wished he just let fall away.  
   
"Well. This was ... lovely." He stopped in front of your door.   
You placed your hand on the reader and the door swooshed open. You turned and gazed up at him. Tingling nerves was an understatement when your eyes met his blues.   
"Good night," he smiled a thin curved smile, standing at a discreet distance as he pulled your hand up for a gentle peck on your hand.  
"Right. Good night," your mouth twisted in disappointment. A kiss on the hand wasn't what you had hoped for. You opened your mouth, but words escaped you. You just shook your head and stepped into your quarters, the door shutting behind you.  
   
"Ugh... daaaAAAMIT!" You cussed. You should've gone for it. You should've just... He would never... Never because ... he just wouldn't. He had said so himself that he didn't kiss on first dates. What else did you expect?  
   
A chime at the door and you just pushed the button, not paying attention to the digital display.  
"Armi..." before you could finish his name his lips were on yours, pressing against you with such urgency it took your breath away. Even more so when you felt his hands cup your face. Leather free. Ungloved warmth. Skin on skin. "I thought, you don't kiss on first dates," you gulped when his lips pulled away.  
"For you, I'll make an exception," he whispered under his breath, right before he pulled you in for another, passionate kiss.  
 


	2. Chapter 2

Consciousness flooded your mind, from sleepy haze to waking state. Whatever you were just dreaming about vanishing quickly into veiled nothingness, traded with the scents and sounds of fresh rain tapping gently against the angled window of your tiny quarters.  
   
A deep breath in and you smiled. The scent of rain intermingled with scents of you and him. Fragrances of passion and lust. It made you think about last night, and how you could still feel his kisses on your skin. Velvet kisses that had brushed every inch of your body.   
   
The way he had moaned whenever his lips had pulled away made you smile even wider. Like you were the best thing he had ever tasted, and he couldn't get enough of you. Insatiable thirst for your body and everything you offered. Especially for your satisfied sighs.   
   
His lips returning quickly and smirking against your heated skin had given him away like that. And the fact that he had kept mumbling on and on about how much he enjoyed hearing you whenever you gave him one of those sighs. The type that caught at the back of your throat; right before they turned into pleas to the maker. Shocked revelations of discovered pressure points you didn't even know existed until him. And he knew how to tease every. single. one!  
   
You gasped softly at the recollection. And how him giving you his all in return - _without holding back_ \- had made his name drip from your lips more than you could count.  
   
Armitage.  
   
Ar-mi-tage.  
   
How you had loved sighing out his name whenever his body had pressed flush against yours. The formal self completely forgotten with how he had needed you close, closer, closest. There had been barely enough space to expand and take in air. Even now, the thought of his weight on you, pinning you in place, provoked a constricted, hollow breath. And his name. With yet another sigh.  
   
You smiled.   
   
Again.  
   
Armitage...  
   
Then you felt a wispy brush against the tip of your nose, and you became aware that the warmth under the blanket this morning wasn't yours alone.  
   
Your eyes fluttered open, focusing to your right where they were met with the bluest blues you had ever seen on him. A hint of confusion on your face and he husked out a chuckle.  
"You stayed," you whispered, and he perked a surprised brow.  
"Did you want me to leave?" His brows pulled down with worry. Maybe he was out of line.  
   
You hadn't asked him to stay. But you also hadn't told him to leave. In fact, in the three months since that first kiss, it had always been him who - _for whatever self-imposed reason_ \- left a short while after. A discreet distance as he called it. For now; because it was all still so new.   
Only in his eyes.   
Not yours.   
   
In your mind, it always felt like he was afraid. Not so much to be seen with you. After all, he always escorted you in a proper, //I am dating this woman//, officer way: your right arm hooked into his left; him austere and tall, and always ready to salute if needed. There were even the occasional //I'm so lucky// smiles. And the way he introduced you, how he said "Y/N", always carried a confident, almost pride-filled undertone. So he was definitely not afraid to be seen with you by his side.  
   
But you could tell, he wanted to maintain a distance; and that that distance was out of some deep-seated angst to share any kind of emotion. An emotional barrier similar to the physical one on that first date; when he had opted to keep his hands gloved until the very end. Like he was afraid that if he touched you, you might either disappear, or be offended, or - _maybe, just maybe_ \- be too real. Until clearly that barrier became too much and he dared, out of the blue, a kiss with gloves shed. Something, you didn't think he was capable of.   
   
You were unsure whether the remaining barrier was for himself or for you. Not that it mattered. Either way, it was a roadblock to something more. So him still being here - _in bed, hair tousled, bare skin, with nearly smiling eyes_ \- was almost shocking to you. Shocking, yet somehow welcome.  
   
Secretly, of course, you hoped that sooner or later that emotional barrier he was so keen on maintaining would fall away; just like his gloves had after that first date. Just so he could feel you. Really feel you. And you, him.  
   
"No," you answered at last with a soft smile. "No... I... I'm just surprised. I mean...," you pulled the top sheet tight over your breasts and looked around, your cheeks turning a few shades of red. Why were you suddenly so ... so self-conscious? He had seen you naked plenty of times since that first date. Completely stripped. And not just of your clothes. Raw exposure. Even in brighter settings than what dawn offered right now.  
   
He stared at you, waiting for whatever else you wanted to say. You supposed that this was another reason why he usually left: awkwardness because neither of you had ever truly seen the other in the mornings after becoming undone. With messy hair that stuck out in all directions. And deepened sleep creases from tangled sheets and limbs. And probably some drool on the pillow. Not to mention, involuntary noises.   
In-vol-un-tar-y noises...  
   
Your eyes widened in horror for a second.   
Then you started laughing, your face falling into your hands.  
Infectious laughter because he, too, laughed. Not as loud as you, but still.  
"I.... uhmmmm... I gotta .... uhm... refresher...," your eyes went wide again as you bit away an awkward smile.  
"Ok." His face settled to a soft smirk.  
"Yeah... uhm... so... just. You know what? I'm a nurse and all, so this shouldn't get to me, but, uhmm... could you just cover your ears," you stumbled out while pulling on some panties and a tank top; then waited, your eyes now as big as small moons, because... awkwardness.  
He chuckled at your flustered self, then covered his ears, and you disappeared into the refresher.   
   
When you returned, he was getting dressed; his lower half already fully clothed.  
Fingers on one of his under-shirt buttons, he halted and gazed at you, taking you in from head to toe; you still only wearing the tank top and panties, hair still messy, and a definite morning afterglow on your face.   
Actually, --- in your whole posture.  
   
You scrunched your nose at him and he returned to buttoning his shirt, a soft chuckle in tow while he did so.  
"You don't want to take a shower?" You paced his way and helped him into the rest of his uniform.  
"Later," he whispered; gazing at you again, tracking your hands while you zipped up his tunic-like jacket and smoothed out the fabric before buckling his belt at the front of his waist.   
   
Somehow, his response evoked a tingling sensation in your stomach, and when you looked up you couldn't help your cheeks turning a few hues of pink. Especially when he offered softened edges and warm eyes in return.   
   
How you loved that tender side to him. When he let years of military training fall away to show you something only you seemed to know existed. A man capable of more than stiff posture and authoritarian voice. Someone who trembled at ideas of ... dare you think it?... love.   
   
 _Love_. That word had invaded your mind more than once since that first kiss. More often in the last couple of weeks. You didn't just like the things he did. You didn't just like what he offered of himself. You didn't just like the way he worshipped your body. You loved. You loved the things he did for you. You loved the little expressions he seemed to reserve only for you. You loved the way he kissed you. And you loved the way he made love to you.   
   
Your gaze dropped for a fraction of a second and you chuckled at your self-observation. Should you say it? Now? --- It was the first time that he had stayed the night.   
Hell, --- you hadn't even been to his place. It was always your place. Maybe he was afraid you wouldn't like his place. Or maybe it was just another way to maintain the barrier.  
   
No!   
   
It was too soon.   
   
Considering how long it had taken him to stay here. At your place.  
And what does it mean anyways? Love. It was probably more lust right now if anything. Nearly every evening - _since that first kiss_ \- seemed to have ended between the sheets. No matter how innocent it began, it almost always ended between the sheets. Long sessions. Not some quick-and-done fuck. But drawn-out evenings with who knows how many positions, his favorites always the ones where he got to hold you close.   
And he usually did stay a little while after.   
Sometimes even until you had fallen asleep.   
   
And the days that you couldn't because Mother Nature, he just held you; minimal clothing because even during that time he preferred feeling you skin on skin... and those nights... well, those nights you liked the most. Even though he didn't talk much. Just having him there was .... it was...  
   
... soothing.   
Tranquil.  
A comfort...  
   
Kriff.   
   
KRIFF.   
   
OH... KRIFF.   
   
This wasn't just lust. This was definitely not just lust.   
You gulped.   
   
Oh... kriiiiiiffff...  
   
You refocused on him and palmed his face, the slightest hint of one-day-stubble tickling your skin. He had never gone a day without shaving. You ventured, he had never even gone a day without a morning shower. The thought made you snicker and he quirked a brow.  
   
"What?"  
"You're slacking off, General," you teased with a soft laugh.  
"Today... is an exception," he countered, his lip curling upward on the right corner, eyes fixed on yours.  
   
Damn.  
   
Damn. Damn. DAMN!   
   
DaaaAAAAMMMnnn!  
   
He seized your hands and pulled your arms around his neck before his still bare hands found their way to your waist. Below your tank top that is. Long fingers flattened against the small of your back as he pulled you closer to himself.   
A soft kiss followed.   
Restrained.  
   
No. NO! He had you lost for words last night. He had you thinking way too much this morning. Time to turn the table.  
Your lips parted, your tongue skimming the edges of his. A little more force and he couldn't resist your tongue much longer. The way you coiled around his did cause him to lose all his senses and his hands slipped from your waist to his sides.  
   
You stepped back, with a snicker. His eyes were still closed, lips slightly parted. He skipped a few breaths, then licked away whatever sweet taste you had left behind, sighing softly. It took another second but when he finally opened his eyes he found you smiling at him. A smug brow from you hinted at some pride. You had literally taken his breath away with that last kiss, and you knew it.  
   
He stood agape, lost for coherent thoughts, heart racing. The fast beating vein on his neck was proof for the latter.   
You waited for words but he just stared at you, gears turning behind his blues. Your mind begged: say something. SAY SOMETHING! Come on, Armitage! What are you feeling, RIGHT NOW?  
"Work," he gulped and you felt your heart sink.   
You let out a frustrated huff of air.   
   
The words "fix your hair" sounded almost bitter, and he took immediate notice.  
"Did I do something wrong?" His brows contracted, softness traded for harsh edges.  
You sighed and thought.   
   
Did he? Your mind recalled the last three months.  
Getting him to reveal anything about himself was a slow process. Conversations always somehow ended with you talking about your past rather than him about himself. And by the time you recognized that he had, yet again, diverted away from himself, the evenings usually took that turn. Between the sheets just so he didn't have to talk.   
   
Anyone else would have probably been happy with that kind of arrangement. Usually, there was little interest in what you liked, and how you grew up, and how your day had gone along. So interest in you should have been welcome. And it was. But you wanted to get to know him, too! Not that you wanted to know everything. Just enough to know where you were standing in his life. How he felt about you. How he felt in general.  
   
You knew this much. His inability to show any kind of emotion was a trained thing. Something his father had done to him from an early age. Showing emotions equaled weakness. And his father despised the weak. Armitage had the scars to prove that.  
Things would take time. And you cared too much for him to be angry over something that couldn't be untrained overnight. Not that you wanted to fix him. That was the wrong term here. All you wanted was two-way communication. Mentally, physically, **AND** emotionally.  
   
He stared at you, like so many times before, waiting. He always waited for your answer. You shook your head. "No... No! You didn't do anything wrong," you forced a smile, just enough for it to be convincing. At least, so you thought.   
"Y/N," he cupped your face by your chin, harsh edges exchanged with softness, again. "I... I... I really enjoyed last night. I, uhmmm.... I mean, I enjoyed what we had after. Actually, the whole evening," he gulped, his heart picking up even more speed. "May I stay? I mean, may I stay over, again? Tonight?"  
Your eyes went wide. And your stomach tingled; filled with a thousand butterflies. He asked to stay another night! He asked... to stay... another night...  
   
You closed your eyes for a second, your face sinking into his hand a little. Your mumbled "yes" was met with a sigh of relief.   
This.  
This was more than lust.  
   
"Fix your hair," you whisper-repeated with a chuckle, then quickly started collecting sheets and pillows to straighten out your bed. From your peripheral, you caught him leaning a perplexed look into the mirror hanging on the wall opposite your bed. Like he needed confirmation that his hair was indeed still messy.   
   
He made himself tall, combing his fingers through his hair, but you knew that wouldn't make do. He had to go to work. This loosened look was ok for whenever he headed back to his quarters. Definitely not for work.   
   
You searched through your vanity, handing him a comb a few seconds later. "I have to get ready, too," you kissed his cheek, ready to pivot back towards the refresher, but before you had a chance, he seized you by your waist and pulled you in for another kiss. This time, there was no restraint on his part. He gave you an open-mouthed, draw-you-in, his-tongue-searching-for-yours type of kiss. And this time it was you who stood out of breath and agape.   
   
He mirrored your smug brow from earlier. "Thank you," he smiled.  
"Uhm.... mmm hmmm... yes... what?"  
He laughed. Wholeheartedly. That was a rarity. "The comb."  
"Right. The comb." It took another second or two to gather your thoughts, and when you finally did, you headed to the refresher.  
   
"May I drop by for lunch?" He asked before you disappeared behind the doors.  
"Uhm. Yes. Sure. I'll send you a message. Not sure what time lunch is today."  
"Ok. Any specific requests?"  
"No. Just... keep it simple," you pointed out because you knew if you didn't, he'd bring you the fanciest food available near base. He had done so since you started dating. You actually had to insist that a simple sandwich and canned drink was fine, too. Faster to consume as well, since even during breaks, you were still on call.  
   
He accepted the request with a grumble, and you folded your arms.  
"Ok. I promise. I'll keep it simple." He caved, stretching his gloves on at last; and you smiled.  
"Go... don't want you to be late." You scrunched your nose again, then finally disappeared into the refresher.  
   
Work was busy today. One emergency after another. You didn't even get the chance to send Armitage the promised message. He just showed up at some point with a tray of food, a bit of annoyance on his face, and all you could offer was a "Sorry. Be right with you." while he found a chair in the break room.  
   
Another emergency had you on edge. A Stormtrooper whose leg had gotten crushed when one of the hover lifts had failed. You hurried to stabilize, your mind sharp, always one step ahead, but it looked as though the Trooper was going to lose his leg, regardless of your efforts.  
When the O.R. team rushed the patient away, you stood defeated, needing a minute to clear your head before you wanted to join Armitage for lunch.  
   
Then, from the corner of your eye, you peered the head of E.R. pacing your way.  
A good-looking doctor by the name of Kell Terrek. Tall, dark haired, dark eyes, square-faced. Some of the other nurses swooned over him. Him and his stories. How he had saved so and so from this and that. A showoff that rubbed you in all the wrong ways.   
His embellished recollections were something you didn't have time for. Ever. Not in this department. And definitely not today. So when you saw him pacing your way, you were ready to make a quick exit with your usual "no time, more patients" excuse.  
   
Terrek reached you and to your surprise, today wasn't about stories.   
"You should really consider becoming a surgeon. Or study internal medicine." Terrek stated, leaning a hand on your shoulder.   
"Too much bureaucracy," you stepped back and his hand slipped off.   
"Not too fond of writing reports, huh?" Terrek stepped closer, a smart ass smirk in tow. "Well, if you're ever interested nurse (Y/LN)," his hand aimed for your shoulder, again, but before he could place it, his face hardened, almost like he was scared.  
   
"Interested in what?" A cold voice cut in sharply from behind.  
"General Hux!" Terrek stood tall, his heels clicking together as he saluted. He was, after all, an inferior officer. An inferior officer, who - _like so many officers here_ \- had heard stories of what could happen if General Hux was the one to catch people wasting time.  
   
The fact that you didn't turn around right away seemed to shock Terrek. Not like you had to. You technically weren't military, albeit being part of the First Order Medical Corps. You were a civilian counterpart and thus, in all technicality, didn't have to abide by military standard greetings. Out of courtesy, you probably should have moved faster. So when you finally did face the General - _in a nonchalant, cross-your-arms-at-the-chest way of all things_ \- Terrek looked as though he was ready to faint.  
   
You quirked a brow and Armitage's lips curled upward on the left corner. He always did like your confidence in moments like this. From day one, it was clear that ranks didn't scare you. It was probably a good thing you weren't military. You would've gotten yourself into trouble more than once by now, ignoring the standard and such.   
   
As amused as Armitage was by your confidence, it didn't change the fact that not even a second later Terrek was met with the iciest death glare you had ever seen on the General's face.   
"I was just telling nurse (Y/LN) to consider becoming a surgeon," Terrek's voice trembled.  
"And? Does she seem interested?" Armitage's tone became even colder.  
"No, Sir."  
Armitage stepped closer to Terrek, and Terrek looked as though he was ready to fall apart. "Then why are you still bothering her?"  
"I ... I was ... I'm... I'm sorry, nurse (Y/LN)," Terrek apologized, even though you didn't feel like there was a need.   
   
You rolled your eyes and walked off to the break room, leaving behind two perplexed officers; Armitage tracking you until you had disappeared behind the break room's doors. "Do not bother her again!" His jaw clenched, and Terrek managed a thin "Yes, Sir!" before scurrying away; Armitage looking after him before following you to the break room.  
   
"You didn't have to scare him!" You geared at Armitage when he joined you; you already stuffing your cheeks with the food he had brought along; one leg on an open chair and your upper body slouching over your tray. It was the first break you had had all morning. So you didn't care about proper manners.  
"He was bothering you," Armitage stated coldly while watching you eat; his own posture formal stiffness, a tinge of surprise on his face in how you seemed to have forgotten even the simplest of table manners.  
   
You straightened your back, but your leg remained on the chair. "I can handle myself." You took a sip of your water, your tone as cold as his.   
Silence settled between the two of you, and you squeezed your eyes shut. He was jealous. Which meant he cared. A lot more than he let on. You had caught jealous glares before, but he had never spoken up or acted upon the feeling. Not until today. Somehow, that evoked more butterflies. He cared. That much you knew.  
   
Still, you wished he had let you deal with Terrek on your own. "Terrek isn't a threat. You know that, right?"  
"You think I'm threatened by him?" That question came with an offended undertone.  
"You're jealous, which means you feel threatened. If not by him, then by the fact that you think I'd go for someone like him. Which means you don't trust me." You pulled your leg from the chair, adjusting yourself to mirror Armitage's formal posture.  
His eyes widened at your observation. "I trust you. I don't trust him. I'm not threatened by him, but I also know he won't stop unless you make it very clear to him. And the way he looked at you was more than some career advice."  
   
You shook your head. "Again. I can handle myself," you repeated, then your comm went off. Another emergency. "I have to go." You rushed to a stand, but Armitage stayed seated. That distance you thought was peeling away earlier today, bigger again. You didn't have time to wait for a reply. Your comm beeped again. "I have to go," you repeated, and he just nodded. Expressionless. And suddenly the butterflies turned into a churning ache. You hated leaving it at that, but you had no time to spare. No thoughts either. So you left, and he stayed seated.  
   
When you came back a few minutes later, the emergency not as serious as initially thought, he was gone. Of course, he would be. He had work, just like you. But your heart sank nonetheless. You were hoping he would wait for your return. If only so you could give him a proper "see you later" to let him know that you still wanted to see him tonight.  
"Dammit," you whispered. No time to linger. Your comm went off again, and you rushed back. Full medical mode. And your stomach churning.  
 

**Author's Note:**

> This turned into a multi-chapter. Initially was meant as a one shot.


End file.
